


Little Lion Man

by FollowTheFirefly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, I might rewrite this, Inspired by Music, M/M, i have better ideas for it now, title from the Mumford & Sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollowTheFirefly/pseuds/FollowTheFirefly
Summary: In which Grantaire reminds Enjolras of a childhood story when they spend a night in jail.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I got the idea for this one while I was at work. The boss' Pandora station was playing pop music and this one song kept coming up and this story just fell into place. I have no clue what the song is, though. But the title comes from one of my favourite Mumford & Sons songs.

“Well, this is a fine fucking mess you’ve landed us in.”

Enjolras glanced through the bars at Grantaire, who had his back up against the cold brick wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His fingers fumbled with the cuffs of his sports jacket and the nervous twitch of his left foot told Enjolras that the artist was more than a little agitated.

He sighed, preparing himself for the usual argument.

“You’re the one who had the art gallery opening, not me.” He scooted closer to the bars so he could at least attempt to have a proper conversation, though that was a bit difficult considering the current circumstances.

“Yes, but it’s not like anyone actually forced you to get drunk at the wine bar,” Grantaire was fiddling with his tie. “I’m meant to be the drunk one in this relationship, remember?”

“But they were talking shit about-“ Enjolras started to say.

“They’re always talking shit about someone!” Grantaire snapped.

“You don’t have to be rude.” Enjolras had a throbbing headache and the bright lights in the police station weren’t helping. 

“Again, you’re the one who got drunk. Not me.” Grantaire won the fight against his tie and flung it in frustration across the cell, glaring at it.

Enjolras realized that Grantaire was not likely to drop the subject anytime soon, so he changed to another topic entirely.

“When did Courf say he was going to come bail us out?”

“I never actually spoke with him.”

Enjolras stared.

“You what?” he asked slowly, hoping that Grantaire didn’t actually mean what he said.

“He wasn’t there, so I had to leave a message.” Grantaire really didn’t see what was so hard to understand.

“Why the hell didn’t you call Marius?” Enjolras demanded, turning around so that he was facing Grantaire’s cell.

“Courf and Combeferre are our neighbours,” Grantaire explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It sort of makes sense to call them, right?”

“But you called Marius after you didn’t get through with Courfeyrac, right?” Enjolras went on.

“I only got one call!” Grantaire shouted, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise empty holding area.

Frustrated, Grantaire leaned back against the wall, angrily kicking his shoes off and throwing them next to his discarded tie. He muttered a few choice words under his breath and glared at the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras scooted closer to the bars dividing the cells as he tried to ignore the jackhammer feeling in his head. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“A bit, yes.” Grantaire refused to meet Enjolras’ gaze.

“But you’re not completely sober, either.” Enjolras pointed out, loosening his own tie and letting it hang around his neck.

“I had less to drink than you.” Grantaire pulled his knees up to his chest. “And I can hold it better than you ever could.”

“That’s because you’re basically an alcoholic already.” Enjolras really didn’t think that Grantaire needed to be reminded of this, but he found himself speaking before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

“I guess.” Grantaire shrugged. “Still, it would be nice if you didn’t have to play the role of the lion man all the time.”

“What?” Enjolras cocked his head in confusion.

“You don’t remember the story?” Grantaire rested his chin on his knees and if Enjolras didn’t know better, he’d have thought that Grantaire was trying to make himself seem as small as he possibly could.

“Apparently not.” Enjolras shook his head.

“About the boy who spent his life trying to be like the lions, but he found out that while it’s the biggest cat around, it’s okay to be the smallest sometimes?” Grantaire finally looked at Enjolras, who was giving him a rather perplexed look. “And to not let it go to your head?”

“Do I really do that?”

“A bit, yes.” Grantaire nodded.

“Well, I still don’t remember the story.” Enjolras shook his head.

“You should try reading it again.” Grantaire shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it off to the side with a look of disgust.

“You look really nice tonight, by the way,” Enjolras said, not meaning to change the subject completely. 

“You think?” Grantaire sounded genuinely surprised. “Courfeyrac said that jeans and Chucks go with just about everything, but I wasn’t sure it would work.”

“You’ve been around him too much,” Enjolras noted. 

“And you clean up pretty good yourself,” Grantaire offered Enjolras a little smile. “I didn’t even know you owned a dress shirt.”

“Oh, this is Feuilly’s.” Enjolras tugged at the shirt he was wearing. “He let me borrow it for the night.”

“But seriously though.” Grantaire sighed. “How much longer are we going to be stuck here?”

“At least they stuck us in cells next to each other.” Enjolras reached his hand up to the cell and pressed it up against the bars.

“Pretty bad move on their part, I’d say.” Grantaire smirked, holding his hand up to Enjolras’, their fingers linking through the cold metal bars. “But if I had to get stuck in jail for a night with someone, I guess you’re an okay person to get stuck with.”

“”Yeah, I guess it’s not bad getting stuck with you, either.” Enjolras leaned over so that he was leaning against the wall. “Now we just wait for the night to end.”


End file.
